


crossovers are always a risky proposition

by suitablyskippy



Category: Gintama, モブサイコ100 | Mob Psycho 100
Genre: Collected Prompt Fics, Crossover, Dangerously Flimsy Fourth Wall, Gen, Recruitment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 18:03:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10927134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suitablyskippy/pseuds/suitablyskippy
Summary: "Who’s to say how fast the merchandising opportunities will dry up once we’re out of Jump? Who’s to say how rapidly those thirteen years of frozen serialisation stasis time will hit us, or how much hair I’ll lose when I suddenly hit middle-age overnight? No, it’s best to capitalise on our popularity now,” concludes Gintoki. “Strike while the iron’s hot and the anime’s still on air, that’s always been the Yorozuya way. This is the perfect time for a crossover.”(A collection of MP100 vs Gintama crossover fics, with a mixed variety of characters, word counts, and levels of reckless brutality against the fourth wall.)





	1. yorozuya trio + teru + ritsu - negotiating a crossover

**Author's Note:**

> Descriptions of each individual fic are in the chapter titles, and the prompts I wrote them for are in the chapter summaries. 
> 
> I'm marking this as complete, but I feel like inevitably I'm going to end up writing more of these crossovers before long, so it'll be updated if and when that happens!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: 'oooh for the fic meme, how about teru and/or ritsu getting caught up in shady samurai odd jobs business?'

 

“We usually like to talk a new job over together before we come to a decision,” explains Shinpachi, in a tone of deep earnestness which he cultivates for those desperate, urgent times when Gintoki and Kagura have only _nearly_ annihilated any chance of getting clients to trust them; it’s a tone he reserves for emergencies. “In private, I mean. So, ah – would you mind if we just step next door for a minute or two...? Into the – um, office? The... _other_ office?”

In return he receives silence, and the dark-haired one’s flat stare.

“I think I speak for both of us when I say we’d also welcome a moment to confer,” says the blond one, sliding in with effortless grace to fill the gap which the other one’s glowering silence has hacked into the conversation. “Take all the time you need.”

The dark-haired one says nothing. His flat stare has transferred to Gintoki. He’s looking at him with an expression like Gintoki’s a waiter who’s just tried to explain away a toenail clipping in the ramen bowl he’s served him as an exotic new Amanto topping – which, under normal circumstances, Shinpachi wouldn’t object to; after all, he himself gave Gintoki the very same flat, revolted stare just last Thursday, when Gintoki _did_ try to explain away the toenail clipping in Kagura’s fifth serving of rice as an exotic new Amanto topping which he’d bought for her to sample at great personal expense, _such_ great personal expense that of course both she and Shinpachi would understand why they’d be seeing no wages that week, of course...

...but that’s the problem: it’s the same stare. It’s _exactly_ the same stare. 

Shinpachi yanks Kagura and Gintoki through behind him into the semi-sanitary hazard zone of Gintoki’s bedroom. “Gin-san, I don’t like it,” he whispers at once, as the three of them huddle close. “I don’t think we should take the job. I don’t trust them.”

“Money is money,” Kagura whispers back, and for once the volume of her whisper isn’t enough to shudder avalanches down from mountains. It’s because they’re huddling, Shinpachi’s sure of it; gathering the Yorozuya into a conspiratorial knot is all it takes to activate Kagura’s passion for theatrics. “When you’ve been in the odd jobs business as long as I have, you realise likes and dislikes are an obstacle to success in the capitalist workplace. Shed your feelings and focus on the paycheck, Pachi, uh-huh. _That’ll_ bring you freedom.”

“I can see how this is going to go already,” says Shinpachi urgently. “Can’t you? The dark-haired one, didn’t you notice? _He wasn’t joining in_. He wasn’t getting into the spirit of things! I don’t think he took part in a single piece of light-hearted repartee the whole time we were talking, did he?”

The huddle tightens: Kagura grips Shinpachi’s collar and yanks his ear closer to her level. “We’ll keep the blond one,” she tells him, in a noisy whisper that smells like vinegar and fish. “I’ve decided, uh-huh. We’ll keep his wig. I’m going to give it to Sadaharu as a special fluffy friend for when all the lady dogs have headaches.”

Desperately, Shinpachi presses on. “And I know you noticed, Gin-san, because I saw you roll your eyes at Kagura-chan – the way you usually roll your eyes about _me_! He’s a straight man _even straighter than I am_!”

“You’re young, Shinpachi,” says Gintoki. “This situation... It’s more complicated than you think.”

“I don’t care about the politics, Gin-san! I’m sorry, but it’s true! I only care about—”

“Oh, I’ll admit crossovers are always a risky proposition,” Gintoki goes on, with a deep and weary sigh, “but Patsuan, you don’t understand the pressing financial concerns of a long-running series after it openly acknowledges it’s entering its final months. Who’s to say how fast the merchandising opportunities will dry up once we’re out of Jump? Who’s to say how rapidly those thirteen years of frozen serialisation stasis time will hit us, or how much hair I’ll lose when I suddenly hit middle-age overnight? And think of Kagura-chan! As soon as we leave serialisation and re-enter the natural flow of time, she’s going to skip right past her late teens and the best part of her twenties; she’ll be nearly thirty overnight, and can you imagine how devastating the consequences of _that_ could be?”

Kagura’s gazing up at him in wide-eyed awe. “Gin-chan...”

“It’s not the same for you and me, Pachi,” says Gintoki. He’s deep in the huddle, still whispering, but nevertheless he’s blazing with all the intensity of a true shounen lead. “A male character can be popular at any stage of life, just as he can be mediocre and forgettable at any stage of life, overlooked in popularity polls from the cradle to the grave – but for a female character, it’s different. A female character who goes straight from pre-pubescence to an age where either she’s settled down into her endgame pairing or the fans are starting to wonder why she hasn’t...” He shakes his head, grim and tired. Kagura’s eyes are squeezed closed in anguish. “She’s missing out on all the most marketable stages of her life, Pachi. She’s losing a _huge_ amount of profit potential.”

“No – no, I understand that,” says Shinpachi. “I do understand that, Gin-san. My sister’s been talking about nothing else since the end of the manga was announced, so I really do understand that. But that’s not what—”

“And that’s why it’s best to capitalise on our popularity now,” concludes Gintoki, as he rubs Kagura’s shoulder consolingly. “Strike while the iron’s hot and the anime’s still on air, that’s always been the Yorozuya way.”

“This isn’t about the money, Gin-san! We _always_ need the money,” says Shinpachi, “that’s nothing new. This is about something much more important.” 

“More important than money?” says Gintoki.

“Yes,” says Shinpachi.

“Something like that doesn’t exist,” says Kagura.

“It does,” says Shinpachi, “and it’s confronting all of us today. It’s about that dark-haired one – about Ritsu-kun. He’s,” says Shinpachi, and stops. He takes a deep breath, and starts again. “He’s... he _is_ a straight man. He is. I can tell. We have ways, you see; one straight man can always spot another. And I can tell he already disapproves of your irresponsible attitude, Gin-san! I bet you anything he’s out there _right now_ complaining to the other one about how unprofessional you seem! And I know because _I’m_ a straight man, and that’s exactly what I’d be doing! And what series needs two straight men?!” Desperation seizes Shinpachi, so Shinpachi seizes Gintoki’s baggy collar. For good measure, he shakes it. “This isn’t about money, Gin-san! It’s about belonging! It’s about our established dynamic as a trio! It’s about not being usurped and cast aside! It’s about _defending my place in the world_!”

The silence rings. Shinpachi looks desperately between the two of them. 

“Now he mentions it,” says Gintoki, after a pause that seems to last a lifetime, “that kid does seem pretty serious.”

“Yes!” Shinpachi dives for his chance. “When you picked your nose and wiped it on Kagura-chan’s hair ornament, Gin-san, he didn’t even crack a smile! I was watching him! And when Kagura-chan tried to climb onto your desk and shove her own snot back up your nose as revenge...” Briefly he presses his hand to his mouth, trying desperately to compose himself, before his heated whisper bursts out: “Gin-san, he _sighed_! He just... _sighed_ , and looked disgusted!” 

“Yeah? Doesn’t sound too bad to me. Peace and quiet’s too hard to come by nowadays,” says Gintoki, “I like a kid who knows how to keep his mouth shut when he’s looking down on me.”

“No – Gin-san, you don’t understand! There are guidelines for this sort of thing,” cries Shinpachi, “there are _traditions_! There are rules! A real straight man can’t just make a disgusted expression and be done with it – you’ve got to _follow it up_. You’ve got to make a scene! You’ve got to shout, and overreact, and keep up your end of the joke; you’ve got to rise to the occasion! And Ritsu-kun _doesn’t_! He’s silently disdainful! He has no respect for the honourable duties of the straight man’s role!” 

“He doesn’t wear glasses, either,” says Kagura. 

“So in other words,” says Gintoki, “he’d be an upgrade.”

“ _No_ ,” says Shinpachi. 

“Maybe this is what we need, Gin-chan,” Kagura says frankly. “A breath of fresh air, uh-huh. Shaking up the established trio. Pachi works so hard, he can take a break for a while; I’ve always thought he’d be good as a background character. He’s so bland there’d never be a risk of him upstaging the protagonists in crowd scenes.”

 

+++

 

“I don’t like it,” Ritsu says flatly, the instant the door of the alleged office slides closed behind the alleged staff of the Yorozuya’s alleged business. “I don’t trust anything in this whole set-up. The business is sketchy, the local area is suspicious, and that man reminds me of Reigen-san.”

Teru nods, thoughtfully. He’s sitting on the opposite sofa, one knee over the other, looking so inappropriately relaxed under the circumstances it’s like he’s been chemically sedated. “I can certainly see the resemblance,” he agrees. “A charismatic small-business owner, resourceful enough to earn a living by solving other people’s problems, and generous enough to take youngsters under his wing as apprentice, employee, and student all at once.”

Ritsu’s so preoccupied by mistrust that the word _youngsters_ from Teru’s mouth brings only the barest twinge of loathing. “A second-rate fraudster,” he says, “taking advantage of cheap child labour for hiring underage sidekicks who, I assume, do all the actual work around here. This place is a dump; you think he pays them right?”

“They seem happy enough,” says Teru, with such irritatingly excessive tact that Ritsu’s already sour expression sours further still. “I’ll be honest with you, little brother: I don’t see any negatives here.”

“Look harder,” says Ritsu.

“I can’t feel any psychic activity in this city whatsoever – there’s no risk involved,” Teru goes on, unperturbed. “The locals seem harmless, if perhaps a touch eccentric. The pseudo-historical setting is unfamiliar enough for novelty value, but familiar enough that your brother wouldn’t find it distressing. The potential for publicity would be remarkable... And, of course,” he adds, so suddenly careless that Ritsu recognises instantly that, whatever Teru’s about to say, it’s the one single factor which he cares about the most, “as the lead agents of this deal we’d be able to negotiate whatever conditions we wanted from the promotional campaign beforehand. Tie-in posters, perhaps. Limited edition covers for the Blu-Ray release.”

“I don’t want to be on a limited edition poster with _you_ ,” says Ritsu.

“And I don’t really want to be on one with you,” says Teru, impeccably polite, “which is precisely the sort of condition we’d be able to negotiate if this crossover goes ahead. Haven’t you ever wanted to appear on a T-shirt, little brother?”

Ritsu hesitates, and immediately hates his own hesitation for the fact he’s already completely, utterly, one hundred percent certain that that single fraction of a second’s jealous memory has already given Teru all the reason he needs to say something like—

“I thought as much,” says Teru, insufferably smug. “Well, you’re free to make your own mind up, of course; but personally speaking, I’d be more than willing to work with them if they’re willing to follow my lead.”

“ _Our_ lead,” says Ritsu. 

“I’m sure that’s what I said, little brother,” Teru says serenely.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted [here on tumblr](http://suitablyskippy.tumblr.com/post/159923596944/oooh-for-the-fic-meme-how-about-teru-andor-ritsu)!


	2. ritsu + katsura - attempted joui recruitment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: 'what about a crossover!! zura and ritsu for the fic meme?'

“Young man!” 

The booming voice cries out from below the level of the footpath. Ritsu looks down the slope of the riverside: there’s no one there. He looks to either side, suspicious. There’s no one there, either. He looks back down. 

The pipe of a lime-green snorkel breaks the scummy water at the river’s bank. Through the waterweed-clotted surface comes a man’s head, and a man’s shoulders, and from the man comes once again the booming cry: “ _Young man_! Here - I’m here; but don’t look too closely, don’t make it obvious. My enemies draw closer by the day, and only your subterfuge will keep me free. Might I ask you to approach, that together we might better discuss the possibility of acts of patriotic rebellion in your future?” 

Reigen has always taken the number one spot in the list of the most suspicious-looking adults Ritsu’s ever seen. With one glance at the man hailing him from beneath the river bridge – his long dark hair untied, bedraggled, plastered to his head and tangled with long strings of waterweed – Reigen loses that position instantly. “No,” says Ritsu, and keeps walking. 

The man in the river shoves his lime-green diving goggles onto the top of his head. “Young man! Young warrior! I sense a fire blazing in your heart, a patriotic passion that only justice will provide!”

“You sense wrong,” says Ritsu. 

“Does the thought of liberation thrill you?” cries the man, seized by passion. 

“No,” says Ritsu. 

“Does a dream of freedom fuel you?” cries the man, seized by yet more passion still. 

“No,” says Ritsu. 

“Do you have any experience with hand grenades, homemade bombs, and the life of the sword,” cries the man, seized by a fervent ecstasy of passion, “and if not, would you like to?” 

Ritsu stops. He looks back. The man is still in the river, still wearing his lime-green goggles on his head; his arms are folded on the concrete riverbank, and all evidence suggests he’s wearing a striped full-body bathing suit in almost prehistoric style. He’s such a suspicious-looking adult that he could occupy the top three spots on Ritsu’s list alone; he could push Reigen down to fourth place single-handed. And yet…

“You’ve got one minute,” says Ritsu, and folds his arms. “I’m listening.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted [here on tumblr](http://suitablyskippy.tumblr.com/post/157761614879/what-about-a-crossover-zura-and-ritsu-for-the)!


	3. kagura + shou - BEST FRIENDS FOREVER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: 'shou & kagura, loud disastrous redhaired problem kids rule the world'

 

At the very least, Shinpachi tells himself, as he takes one hand off the vacuum to turn his music up – but it’s already as high as it can go; he represses his despair; he vacuums calmly, serenely on – at the very least, it’s nice for Kagura to have another friend her own age. Spending all her time with adult degenerates and delinquents can’t be good for her development; Shinpachi’s fairly sure it hasn’t been good for his. 

The floorboards of the Yorozuya office shudder with the impact of someone leaping onto them from a height. Then they shudder again, with the impact of someone lifting up and hurling down an entire sofa with ease. 

And in a way, Shinpachi further tells himself, as a shriek of some extreme, jubilant emotion reaches him despite Otsuu-chan’s melodic tones blasting in his ears – in a way, it’s keeping them both out of trouble. 

In a very specific and carefully limited way, it’s keeping them out of trouble. The vacuum abruptly cuts out – someone’s accidentally yanked the cable from the wall, caught with a foot during their sprinting race around the main room. Shinpachi breathes deeply, and very calmly. It’s keeping them out of separate trouble, at least; it’s keeping them in conjoined trouble. 

 

+++

 

All sorts of bizarre jobs had been coming the Yorozuya’s way in the week or so before they’d traced the cause of all of them down to the high-speed, high-volume, high-impact new arrival in town. They’d set out to hunt him down and give him a good stern talking-to; they’d found him as easily as though he’d been waiting to be found; they’d all given chase, and before long the direction of that chase had veered upwards, leapt onto the rooftops, and accelerated into absurd, impossible speeds only Kagura could keep up with – which she did, joyously hollering threats and insults and excruciatingly specific promises of what’d happen when she caught up, while Gintoki and Shinpachi fell behind and at last gave up, wheezing for breath, as Kagura and the new arrival in town careened off into the distance together, both of them whooping and bellowing and somersaulting with wild energetic abandon from precarious heights over precarious drops. 

“We can let Kagura-chan handle this one,” said Gintoki, once he’d caught his breath. He straightened up and shielded his eyes, squinting out towards the explosively energetic specks on the bright horizon that were growing ever smaller, ever harder to see. “A girl her age, she wants to feel like she’s got some responsibility. She wants to feel like we trust her to go it alone. Taking this job on’ll do her some good.”

“Kagura-chan’s too fast for you,” said Shinpachi, gently. “It’s okay, Gin-san; you can just say it. None of us are getting any younger.”

They were drinking hot chocolate in Otose’s bar quite contentedly a few hours later when Kagura and her new best friend demolished the door and stormed in with a shower of mud and dirty river water to make the fact of their unfortunate new best friendship public knowledge. 

“This is Shou,” announced Kagura, slapping him on the back, and the fact Shou not only didn’t collapse. didn’t stumble, didn’t appear to suffer any shattered vertebrae, but even grinned wider just went to prove it when Kagura went on, “He’s tougher than any of you lot, uh-huh, and Sadaharu likes the way his hair gel tastes. So we’re best friends now. If anyone’s got a problem with that, you can fight me. And Shou. You can fight both of us. You should fight both of us anyway, uh-huh; it’d be fun.”

“Fun for _us_ ,” said Shou. 

“Fun for us,” agreed Kagura, whose smile was so often bright and happy that it was easy to forget just how terrifying it could be when it wasn’t. “That’s Gin-chan,” she added, and Shou looked with interest where she pointed, “his hair’s bad but his diet’s worse, uh-huh. He’s not as useless as he looks. He buys me sweets, so I live with him.” 

“You really didn’t need to phrase it like that,” said Shinpachi, pained. 

“And that’s Pachi,” said Kagura. “I don’t need to introduce him. He’s a Pachi. He does all the usual things Pachis do.”

Shou’s stare moved to Shinpachi. His stare was as bright blue as Kagura’s own but a hundred times more unnervingly unblinking. He appeared to be thinking something over. 

“Nice to meet you,” said Shinpachi, politely. “Don’t mind Kagura-chan – I’m not really called Pachi; my name’s Shimu—”

“Does it stress you out how bland you are?” said Shou. 

“Excuse me?” said Shinpachi. 

“Does it stress you out how bland you are?” repeated Shou, and continued to stare as intensely as though Shinpachi’s answer would be as significant to him as the final test results from the trial of some new miracle drug. 

“I, um – I really don’t know what to say to that,” said Shinpachi, after a moment. He really didn’t. He looked helplessly at Kagura and found no mercy there. He looked helplessly at Gintoki, who was gazing into his hot chocolate with an attitude that made it clear this was Shinpachi’s problem. “I mean, I – well, honestly,” he said, rallying his confidence, “I don’t consider myself _that_ bland. I don’t think it’s fair to say I’m _that_ bland. All right, I’m not the flashiest character, but I’ve got plenty of interesting, unique traits. I’m – well, I’m into music, for example! I have plenty of hobbies,” said Shinpachi, warming to his subject. “And my character development over the course of the series has actually been—”

“It stresses him out,” Shou told Kagura. 

“We should go throw rocks at the police,” Kagura told Shou. 

They high-fived. It was the kind of high-five that could have shattered stone. They burst out of the snack bar as explosively as they’d burst in. The door was already smashed; this time they managed to demolish some of the wall as well. Shou and Kagura got on like a house on fire, but no one had thought to evacuate the house.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted [here on tumblr](http://suitablyskippy.tumblr.com/post/159940860024/shou-kagura-loud-disastrous-redhaired-problem)!


	4. tome + katsura + elizabeth - passion for aliens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: 'fic meme: did zura recruit tome into the joui or did tome recruit zura into the telepathy club?? we may never know'

“Nowadays,” says Katsura, “the youth of this country seem ever more interested in sending messages to each other on their mobile telephones and ever less interested in aliens. But I’ve heard a rumour.”

“A rumour,” says Tome. She sips her drink. The straw rattles. She isn’t blinking. Despite her tender years, she appears already remarkably proficient at the art of intimidation. 

“A rumour of your organisation,” perseveres Katsura. He’s wearing a baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes. Its bill bears the logo of a soccer team to whom anyone who knows anything about Katsura Kotarou will most assuredly know he has never once lent his support, which proves beyond a doubt that he can’t possibly be Katsura Kotarou: his identity is immaculately concealed. Here in this sizzling, deep-fat-fried branch of Mobdonald’s, the secrecy of their rendezvous is assured. “A rumour of your tireless pursuit of all things extraterrestrial. Such passion is admirable in one so young.”

“Yeah, well,” says Tome, very slightly mollified. “Most people think it’s a bunch of crap. But most people don’t know anything about anything anyway. Most people wouldn’t know an alien if it abducted them right out their bed one night.”

Katsura leans in furtively across their table. “What if I were to make you a… _proposition_?” 

“Why did you do that voice?” says Tome. 

“I didn’t do a voice,” says Katsura. 

“Yeah, you did,” says Tome. She forms a pyramid of her fingertips and props it beneath her chin, and leans in furtively across their table: “A… _proposition_. It’s creepy. You sound creepy. And you look sketchy as hell, no offence. Well – some offence. What _is_ that thing, anyway?”

That _thing_ rests one soft wing quickly on Katsura’s arm, before his outrage catapults him into a temper and he ruins the recruitment pitch before he’s even had a chance to pitch it. I’M ELIZABETH, says Elizabeth’s sign. IT’S NICE TO MEET YOU, TOME-SAN. I’M FROM THE RENHO. 

“Somewhere in Europe?” Tome guesses, without interest. 

SOMEWHERE IN OUTER SPACE, says Elizabeth’s sign. 

Tome’s grip clenches; her paper cup bursts and fizzy orange floods her tray, her lap, pooling rapidly across the table with ice cubes skidding in the mess. “Wait – you’re an _alien_?” 

Whatever Elizabeth has to say in response to that, neither Katsura nor Tome ever finds out: Katsura shoves the next sign abruptly back down beneath the table before Elizabeth can raise it. 

“Elizabeth is my loyal ally and trusty second-in-command,” Katsura proclaims at the top of his voice, “and it disgraces all of us to trifle with such irrelevancies as – as... _planet of origin_. Elizabeth has the soul of a samurai, and nothing matters more than that. Elizabeth’s heart is more human than anyone’s. Elizabeth stands above all—”

“Do you have a spaceship?” blurts Tome, ignoring him completely. Her attention is fixed raptly on nothing and no one but Elizabeth – patient, unoffended Elizabeth. “Do you ever go back home? Would you take me? Do you come in peace? Can I get your number? Or do you prefer email? Do you want me to take you to my leader? Cos _I’m_ kind of the leader round here; I’m club president, so you already basically got who you’re after. Can you fly? Can you hear what I’m thinking? Ah—” and she breaks suddenly off, concentrating hard, the forefinger of each hand jammed against her temples like she’s trying to manually tune the frequency on which her thoughts are broadcasting. 

I’M AFRAID NOT, says Elizabeth’s sign. MAYBE WITH SOME PRACTICE, THOUGH…

“If we might return to the matter of my proposition,” begins Katsura—

“If you wanna beam me up, you can beam me up,” Tome says urgently. “You probably got medical tests and stuff you wanna do too, right? That’s fine. You can go ahead. I’ll sign the, like – alien medical consent forms.”

“Regarding my proposition—” 

“Do you breathe oxygen?” demands Tome. “What do you eat? Can you convert starlight into energy? How many light years distant is your home planet? Is the journey there likely to last longer than the typical human lifespan? If so, is your spaceship equipped to put me in cryogenic stasis while we’re travelling? And—”

But she has to pause to heave another breath, and Katsura dives nimbly in. “We’re from _another world_ ,” he says. “Another Earth. On _our_ Earth, aliens are everywhere. Aliens already invaded.”

Tome lets out all the breath she just inhaled. Her stare is wide and bulging by default, but it grows even wider and more bulging now. 

Katsura’s rather gratified by her stunned silence. He dabs a paper napkin onto the knee of his kimono, which is unpleasantly damp from where Tome’s spilled drink has been dripping onto it. “So you see why I sought you out,” he says. “I lead an organisation which deals exclusively with the – ah, _integration_... of aliens into human society... But the normalisation of the alien presence in our world makes it really rather difficult to find recruits with any passion for the cause. Everyone’s grown used to living with aliens. Everyone accepts it as the status quo, so no one’s interested anymore.” 

“ _You_ ,” says Tome, jabbing her finger into Katsura’s face, “run... an _agency_... for taking care of aliens who live on Earth?”

“In a manner of speaking,” agrees Katsura, carefully avoiding both the truth and Elizabeth’s reproachful gaze. “The right of aliens to live comfortably on Earth is... certainly something I feel strongly about. There are those who strive to interfere with our work, but we fight on – dauntless, fearless, indomitable.”

Tome’s already on her feet, yanking her jacket on over her soda-sticky school uniform. “I’m in,” she says, and bolts out the door of the restaurant ahead of them. She doesn’t stop to take her tray to the clear-up area, so Katsura does it for her. 

I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW, says Elizabeth’s sign – in handwriting smaller than usual; the written equivalent of whispering – I STILL DON’T THINK THIS IS A GOOD IDEA. Another sign, as pessimistic as the first: REJECTING ALL AMANTO INFLUENCE AND EXPELLING THE FOREIGNERS SEEMS LIKE THE LAST THING SHE’D WANT. 

“Nonsense,” says Katsura briskly, as he drops Tome’s empty burger carton into the appropriate recycling chute. “Passion is passion, after all. Love and hate are merely two sides of the same coin. Now remind me, Elizabeth: which of us kept the parking ticket?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted [here on tumblr](http://suitablyskippy.tumblr.com/post/160657069244/fic-meme-did-zura-recruit-tome-into-the-joui-or)!


	5. shinpachi + reigen - life counselling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: 'I am still so blown away by the fact that one of my favorite fanfic writers is accepting prompts, like wow dude. i just want more of your writing to read, so i apologize for the low quality of prompts, but if possible, another crossover, with Reigen + Hasegawa-san, like helping him find his place in society? or Reigen + Shinpachi interaction!!'

 

“But you see, Reigen-san, that’s exactly the problem: I’m _not_ the protagonist of my own life,” says Shinpachi. He says it without any real resentment; he’s had years for the resentment to wither and die and re-emerge as weary, dutiful resignation. He sips his tea, and continues in a reasonable tone: “It’s probably hard for characters from other series to understand, but we just don’t have that kind of reassurance in Gintama. We don’t have a fourth wall, you see; we know exactly what role we play. I’m one of two main secondary protagonists in my own life. And there’s no use telling me I’m not, because in Gintama we get to read our own promotional materials, so we all know exactly how the anime studio categorises us.” He shrugs a rueful, _well-what-can-you-do_ kind of shrug. “I’m the straight man sidekick, and that’s just how it is.”

Reigen nods. He thinks. He drums his fingers on his desk, and says, “You know this is a psychic’s agency, right?”

“Oh, no, I know,” Shinpachi assures him. “But Hasegawa-san was telling me he felt a twenty-six percent reduction in bad luck for the first hour after you exorcised the weight from his shoulder last week, which is really very impressive by his standards, and he happened to mention that you’re a very good listener. So I just thought it’d be nice if someone listened to me. People don’t often listen to me, really, even when I shout. _Especially_ when I shout.” 

Reigen nods again, and thinks some more, and continues drumming his fingers on his desk, and meanwhile Shinpachi sips his tea and enjoys the novelty of an attentive, considerate audience. 

“All right. Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” says Reigen at last. He folds his arms on his desk: getting down to business. Shinpachi sits up even straighter and offers an encouraging smile. “You’re feeling… overlooked. Sidelined in your own life. You’re feeling like you can’t change yourself or move on, because the serialisation format of your series holds you back. You’ve got to be the same Shinpachi-kun you’ve always been – _forever_.”

“That’s just it!” says Shinpachi, eagerly. “I was considering getting contact lenses once. The morning after I mentioned it, I found my older sister and Kagura-chan and Gin-san – ah,” interrupting himself apologetically, “—that’s my employer: Sakata Gintoki, he runs the odd-jobs agency Kagura-chan and I work for – _he’s_ the protagonist, actually... Well, the very next morning I found the three of them drafting a newspaper ad looking for actors to play the role of Shimura Shinpachi.” Silence comes, and stays, and lingers. Shinpachi gazes down into his tea. Thin curls of steam still spiral up from it. When his glasses begin to fog, he looks back up and finds Reigen watching him, his expression sombre. “And when I confronted them, they weren’t ashamed. They just said it was necessary. They said I was giving them no choice.”

“And did you get your contact lenses, in the end?” asks Reigen. 

“Well, of course not!” says Shinpachi. “They’d have fired me from Gintama, or at least put me on semi-permanent standby.”

“I see,” says Reigen. “Yes, I see. There’s your problem, young Shinpachi-kun – they _wouldn’t_ have fired you.”

“But they—”

“—were drafting an ad, sure, sure. And they made sure you knew it, didn’t they?” All of a sudden Reigen’s jolting upright in his desk chair, jabbing his finger with a level of passionate intensity Shinpachi last saw from Kagura the last time Gintoki suggested getting Sadaharu neutered. “Made sure you walked into the room at just the right time? Made sure you just _coincidentally_ happened to stumble over their plans without any of them ever having to confront you directly about their objections and talk it out like adults?”

“Well – yes,” says Shinpachi, too startled to deny it, “...yes. Yes, I suppose they did.”

“Because they were bluffing,” says Reigen. He sits back, coolly calm again, satisfied; he links his hands across his stomach and regards Shinpachi with the indulgent kindness of one who knows he is both much older and much wiser, but doesn’t intend to let that get between them. “They were setting you up, kiddo. They probably know exactly how worried you are about being a side character – so they’re using it. Making the most of it. They know your biggest weakness, so they’re exploiting it. Oldest trick in the book,” says Reigen, and heaves a world-weary sigh. “Next time, don’t give in to it. Don’t yield. It’ll be hard, because they’ll be expecting you to roll over and give in, same as usual; they’ll probably escalate when they realise you’re not cooperating; you’ll probably be tempted to believe them – but _don’t_ ,” he says, and slams his palms to the desk so hard that Shinpachi jumps, and nearly spills his tea. “You _can’t_. Don’t give an inch. Don’t show weakness. Never forget it’s a bluff.”

“But – what if it’s not a bluff?” says Shinpachi, uncertainly. “I’m sure it isn’t. It can’t be. I mean, with all respect, Reigen-san, you don’t know them. You don’t know that for sure.” 

“Think about it for a minute,” says Reigen, not ungently. “So you’re not a protagonist. So what? Just because you’re in a long-running serial doesn’t mean they can replace you the instant you decide to change your style. Don’t you think it’s the other way around? You’re in a long-running serial, so they _can’t_ replace you – you’re too well-established. You’ve got the experience. You’ve got the connections. You’re a pro at doing what you do.” 

Shinpachi removes his glasses and polishes them energetically in his sleeve. Without them, it’s much easier to justify to himself the way his vision’s blurring as that unbearable kindness keeps coming. 

“You _think_ you’re expendable, but you’re not. They can’t afford to lose you. It’s in their interests to let you keep thinking you’re expendable... _but you’re not_. No one’s expendable, kid. Not even a straight man sidekick. No one can be replaced just like that.”

Shinpachi presses the back of his hand across his mouth. He takes it away. He puts his glasses back on and his voice sounds almost steady when he manages at last to say, “Thank you, Reigen-san. That really – that was... I mean – thank you. _Thank you_.”

“No worries,” says Reigen. “You get back to Shounen Jump and shake things up over there, all right? Give them hell. Let them know who’s boss.”

“Oh, my sister’s definitely boss,” says Shinpachi. He hesitates, indecisive – then blurts, “I’ve – actually, I’ve actually… got some hair dye with me. Right now, I mean. And I don’t think anyone at home would help me, or at least not anyone who wouldn’t accidentally pour bleach in my eyes. So, um – if it’s not too much trouble, Reigen-san, if you have a little time... do you think we could—”

“Consider it done,” says Reigen – and within the hour, it is. 

 

+++

 

It’s only temporary dye. Baby steps – Shinpachi hadn’t had the nerve to start out with permanent. 

It takes a week and a half before his roots start to creep back through the rapidly fading golden blond. Shinpachi spends that week and a half on standby, quarantined to the back room of the Yorozuya office, watching despairingly through a crack in the door as Gintoki, Kagura, and Sadaharu go about their daily business with the fourth slot filled in by Seita wearing a black wig and spectacles with no glass in their frames, standing on a box, making no effort either to hide his Yoshiwara accent or to drop the pitch of his high, unbroken voice. 

“You look really cool,” Kagura tells him loyally, “it’s just no one’s going to recognise you. Because you don’t usually look cool, uh-huh. But you _do_ look cool, Pachi. Like a boring delinquent.”

Cool isn’t enough. Cool doesn’t get him screentime. As soon as this dye washes out, Shinpachi’s going straight back to the status quo.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted [here on tumblr](http://suitablyskippy.tumblr.com/post/160716688534/i-am-still-so-blown-away-by-the-fact-that-one-of)!


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